


The Knight

by ddagent



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Banter, Bar Room Brawl, Crush, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, Kissing, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 12:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20045857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Jaime finds his brother's notion that he has a crush on his colleague Brienne ridiculous. To prove him wrong, he...pretends to be Brienne's boyfriend when he sees her being harassed in a bar.





	The Knight

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think this fic was going to get put up today. I fell into a fandom wank hole this evening, and it was hard to pull myself out. But I did, and I managed to get this fic edited. I hope this story lifts the spirits of at least one person who is being dragged down by the BTS stuff postseason. Also, I'm going to do my level best to continue my streak and write another story tomorrow! Who knows what AU it'll be? :D
> 
> This is, again, very loosely based on the prompt: "i’m at a bar when i see someone making you uncomfortable so i swoop in as your partner…only to find out that the person you’re with is your actual partner and they broke up with you because they thought you were cheating–my bad?"
> 
> Enjoy.

"Tarth, can you look over this–_oh._"

_Fuck. _He should have knocked. _Really _should have knocked. He _never _knocked, but that's because Tarth – boring, honourable, Tarth – never did _anything_ in her office worth interrupting. Client meetings, paperwork; occasionally she would eat her lunch in there. In the three years they'd both worked at Stark, Tully & Reed, Jaime had never seen Tarth in anything more than a pantsuit (even in the rare staff functions they attended), or her gym clothes (where they elected for a physical sparring match rather than their usual verbal ones). But here she was. In a _dress. _

_Well, _half a dress. Her hands were fumbling at the base of her spine for the zip; the bare expanse of her back on full display. _So many freckles. _Jaime's gaze travelled up her spine, over broad shoulders, and was met by a glare so icy it would have rebuilt the Wall. "Didn't any of your fancy schools ever teach you how to _knock_?"

"_No, _we always had people to announce our presence," Jaime shot back, closing the door to Tarth's office behind him. He circled her; taking her in. "And people to knock for us. You know, you're not exactly lowborn, Tarth. I may be rich, but at least I don't share a name with an _island._"

Jaime settled on Tarth's desk, pushing her belongings out the way to lean back. Tarth stood, hands still fiddling with the zipper; unsure whether to retort or simply ask him to leave. Whilst she decided (_Gods, _he loved watching her struggle like this), Jaime continued his appraisal of his colleague and co-counsel. That dress would have reached the knees on a normal woman; it barely graced Tarth's mid-thigh. It was deep blue – like her island's waters, like her _eyes _– and of all the clothes Jaime had seen her wear, this seemed to suit her the most. _Well, _the colour did. Tarth's complete uncomfortableness in a dress made it look ridiculous.

_Gods, has no one ever told this woman that confidence is sexy? _"You look—"

"I don't care how I look."

"Well, that's obvious."

"_Get out._"

Jaime did not. He lifted the case file in his hand and grinned. "I wanted to go over the depositions before the trial next week. There's some testimony I think we can exploit. This is just the overview; I've asked Podrick to bring in the rest of the boxes. You didn't have any plans for this evening, did you, Tarth?"

She snatched the file from his hand. "I _do, _as it happens, and I intend to keep them. There's no reason why we can't go over this tomorrow; we'll both be fresh and I won't want to _kill_ you for ruining my plans."

"Hot date?"

Tarth bristled at his tone, shoving the file into his chest. He hadn't meant it like _that. _It was just that, in the three years they'd known each other, Tarth had _never _gone on a date. He assumed she was a workaholic (like him), or had a history of bad relationships (like him, although Tarth didn't have a stepbrother). He hadn't meant to laugh at the notion of someone asking her out. She wasn't the grotesque specimen that some of the (thankfully former) paralegals had labelled her. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and all that. Some men were attracted to androgynous features, long legs, and gorgeous eyes.

"Would you like me to buy you a ticket to the zoo, Lannister? I'm sure you'll have more enjoyment there than staring at me."

Jaime blinked. He hadn't realised he was staring. "I'm sure I will. I like the lions."

"_Of course you do. _Get out!"

This time, Jaime acquiesced. He sprung from the desk and sauntered to the door, relishing his victory in another of their verbal sparring matches. As he reached for the door handle, he threw a glance over his shoulder at his opponent. Tarth was still struggling with the zipper. Smirking, Jaime made his way back. He placed his prosthetic hand on her hip, drawing a gasp from Tarth at the weight on her skin. The knuckles of his left hand brushed along her spine as he felt for the zip at the small of her back. He slowly drew the two lines together; blue fabric pulled over alabaster skin. She was warm, and soft; he could feel her tense under his touch. The room had suddenly stilled: the only sound the coming together of fabric; the light breaths they both exchanged. Jaime allowed his thumb to trace the top of her dress. Goosebumps prickled her flesh.

"_Thank you_."

Jaime didn't respond. Just took his case file and left.

\-- 

"Now, this is the woman you have a crush on, isn't it?"

Jaime choked on his whiskey, shaking his head across the table at Tyrion. "I do _not._"

"Forgive me, brother. I just assumed that because we've been talking about her on and off for the last hour and a half – and that she seems to crop up in every other conversation we have – that you have a _crush_."

Jaime didn't respond, just _glared_. Tyrion chortled, and asked the passing waitress for another round. _The Blackwater _was a popular drinking establishment in King's Landing, mostly for the dim lights and cheap drinks. Jaime would rather go someplace where the tables weren't sticky, and the waitresses didn't resemble old-fashioned serving wenches. But the owner, and bartender, was Tyrion's old friend Bronn, so they usually got a splash more in their cups. Jaime had called his brother shortly after leaving Tarth's office earlier that evening and asked him for a drink. _Need to unwind from this case, _he'd said. Talked about Tarth for ninety minutes was apparently what he'd done.

"She's…_unbearable,_" Jaime said, trying to explain why his brother's assessment was wrong. "Self-righteous; naïve. Far too tall; thinks she knows _everything _about ancient weaponry and warfare."

"When clearly _you _do."

"Exactly!"

His first case at Stark, Tully & Reed had been a libel case on behalf of one of the nine major families in Westeros. A series of books had been written allegedly disgracing the history of their house, and Catelyn Tully-Stark had made him co-counsel with her protégé, Brienne Tarth. She was stubborn, and smart, and they'd spent _days _in dusty libraries looking for evidence to prove the author had been reckless in their own research. There had been argument after argument: the only time they hadn't fought had been in court, where Jaime had been witness to Tarth's strategic dismantling of the defendant's three-tome 'fiction'. It had been…_impressive. _

"So we both agree: I don't have a crush."

Tyrion frowned. "Did we agree on that? Because what I heard is that she gets under your skin, has morals akin to a normal person – which no doubt seem heightened compared to our own family, has long legs, and plenty in common with _you_."

Jaime drained his glass. "Hardly. She's–she's—"

_Here. _

Tarth was at _The Blackwater, _standing at the bar and looking completely out of place. Her dress, whilst not Lannister expensive, certainly cost more than her normal attire. Her heels elongated her long, shapely legs, and made her a head taller than most of the men in the room – including the man standing next to her at the bar. He was chattering away, waving his arms whilst lifting a pint of bitter to his lips. He seemed completely unaware of how _uncomfortable_ Tarth was. It wasn't the dress, or the shoes, it was _him. _Her arms were crossed over her breasts; there was as much distance as she could put between him in front and the barstool to her back. Her eyes darted everywhere: the dartboards at the side; the constant pull of the bathroom door; _the exit_.

She wanted out.

"Tyrion, I'll be right back."

His brother had caught his eye line: it would be hard to miss the blonde giant standing at the bar. Tyrion put two and two together and _grinned. _"Go on, Ser Jaime. Get your queen of love and beauty."

Jaime gave his brother the finger and strode off towards the bar. The man making Tarth uncomfortable was plain, with dark hair and a crooked nose. He rarely looked at Tarth; more focused on the tight t-shirts of the servers passing by. She could handle him, Jaime was certain. One laden comment or misplaced hand, and this man would be spitting teeth into a bucket at A&E. Jaime didn't _have _to do anything. But his co-counsel on the hook for assault charges would impact their future cases, and there was an easy way to get this man to _fuck off. _

Especially as the man had now grabbed Tarth's wrist.

"Babe, sorry I'm late," Jaime said as he approached. Tarth stared, eyes wide, as she realised he was talking to _her. _He slid his right arm around her waist; the thumb of his prosthetic hand brushing fabric. His other reached up to touch her jaw. "Gods, I've thought about doing this all day."

Then Jaime kissed her.

It was only supposed to be a brush of his lips to hers; a brief signal to the Wildling on the barstool next to her that she was _taken; _move on already. But her lips were supple, warm. There was a lingering stickiness from peach chapstick; a hint of fruit chased by a bitter twist of whatever alcohol she was drinking. His fingertips traced the line of her jaw; his hand sinking down to squeeze the base of her neck. For a second, Brienne leant into his kiss; her lips moving in tandem with his. But then a firm hand pressed against his chest and pushed Jaime back.

_But not away._

With his arm remaining around her waist, Jaime took in Tarth's flushed appearance. _Gods, she looks good. I should kiss her more often. _Swallowing _that _particular thought, Jaime turned his attention back to the man on the barstool; offering him the hand that had previously been teasing the platinum blonde hair Tarth usually tied back. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. I'm Brienne's boyfriend, Jaime. And you are?"

Whatever Jaime had expected the man to do, it wasn't to laugh. And laugh_. _And _laugh, _until he spluttered and had to gulp at his pint. He looked between the pair of them, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, _you're _her boyfriend?"

Jaime's arm stiffened around Tarth's waist. "I don't see why that's so funny."

"It is to me."

Jaime dragged his gaze up the man, giving him the full-blown Lannister appraisal, and found him _wanting_. Brienne deserved better than to be hit on by some arsehole who no doubt thought of her as _if no one else bites, I'll take her. _Brienne deserved better than to be a last resort. And for tonight, until this guy fucked off, she was _his. _"Brienne is my girlfriend. Partner, really: at home, at work. We spar together, too. Seeing this woman wield a sword? You'll be hard as a rock before you yield."

"_Jaime_, please."

The man, however, didn't seem dissuaded. He finished his drink. "Oh, you're _that _Jaime. Brie's mentioned you once or twice. I think she's got a bit of a crush on you, to be honest, but people like me and her know our place. I'm as good as she's ever going to get. Maybe you're hoping to fuck her with this whole _knight in shining armour _routine. I'm surprised you're interested, being _you, _but then I think we both know women are all the same when you turn off the lights."

Jaime hadn't realised he'd slammed the bastard's head against the bar until one of the servers started screaming, and Bronn's unpalatable tone barked _Jaime fuckin' Lannister _across the room. The man just slumped to the floor, hand stemming the blood pouring from his broken nose.

Beside him, Tarth gripped him by the collar "What in all _seven hells, _Jaime Lannister?"

"What? Why are you yelling at _me_?" It was the arsehole on the floor who'd basically said he was only interested in Tarth for her cunt, and only in the correct light. He wasn't the arsehole here. _Was he the arsehole here? _He seemed to know Brienne, and Jaime himself.

"Hyle is my _boyfriend,_" Tarth said through gritted teeth, dragging the wanker she deemed worthy off the floor. "I'm going to take him to A&E. I'll see you tomorrow."

Tarth headed for the exit. She clutched her boyfriend's shoulder and used him as a human shield to push past the assembled crowd all looking to catch a glimpse of the man Jaime Lannister had attacked. _Boyfriend. _Tarth had never mentioned a boyfriend before. He couldn't believe that this _Hyle _was even her type (he'd seen the way she babbled whenever Renly Baratheon came into the office; she liked pretty boys). The woman he knew would have kicked Hyle in the balls for _daring _to say something so obscene; not fussed over him like a mother hen. But as Tarth pushed Hyle through the exit with no grace or care considering he had a broken nose, Jaime wondered whether this was her own attempt at chivalry.

Jaime hoped she broke up with him in the ambulance. Jaime didn't know why he cared.

\-- 

The next morning, Jaime waited outside the building where Stark, Tully & Reed were based. He'd slept poorly the night before, contemplating his quite obvious crush on Brienne Tarth (and it really _was _obvious, now that he'd thought about it), and whether he would arrive at work the next morning to find her still with the contemptuous wanker who wasn't good enough to spit-shine her replica blade. Jaime arrived early, with coffee and pastries, in the hope of catching Brienne before she arrived. Neither of them wanted to have this conversation in full view of their colleagues.

He had been waiting fifteen minutes when he saw Brienne emerge from the multi-storey car park across the street. He raised the cup in silent offering. She scowled as she crossed the road, but took the caffeine anyway. "What's in it?"

"Just chocolate; the cyanide was extra." Jaime took a sip of his own, and shook the bag with various pastries. "It's an apology."

"A bribe. It's not an apology until I hear _I'm sorry._"

"Fine. _I'm sorry." _Brienne didn't look convinced. "I truly am. I had no idea that you were seeing someone. All I know is that I saw you at _The Blackwater _and you looked like you wanted to be anywhere else in the world_. _I thought I was doing a good thing. So: _I'm sorry. _I certainly shouldn't have broken his nose – even if he _did _deserve it. You can pass my apologies onto your boyfriend as well."

An off-hand comment, but it made Jaime's heart beat fast underneath his shirt, waistcoat, and tie. Brienne just shook her head. _Thank the Gods. _"I'm sure the lawyer you hire when Hyle presses charges can pass the message on; I certainly won't. I did my bit; called him a cab to take him to the hospital. Broke up with him just as it arrived."

Jaime tried to appear disinterested. By the look Brienne wore as she sipped her apology coffee, he'd failed. "You'll only hear this once from me, Lannister, but _you were right. _I didn't want to be at that bar; I didn't want to be with _Hyle. _All that garbage he spewed when you came over just confirmed that.

I might not have much self-esteem, but I certainly have self-respect. I'd rather be alone than with someone who thinks that of me."

"Good. _Good._"

The corner of Brienne's lips quirked upwards. "And, upon reflection, I thoroughly enjoyed watching you break Hyle's nose. You know the owner, don't you? Think I could get the security footage?"

"Well, if you represent me when Hyle presses charges, you could watch it repeatedly and bill for me the time."

  
"Tempting, _very _tempting."

They shared a smile; Jaime drawn in by those sapphire eyes. _You could drown in those eyes. _But then Brienne ducked her head, and was pushing her way into the building. She swiped her key card at the front desk; Jaime following suit. They were still early, and they stepped onto an empty lift to take them to the twenty-eighth floor. They sipped their coffees in silence as the lift slowly ticked upwards.

"I would appreciate an apology for the kiss as well."

Jaime snorted. "I'm not apologising for that. _That _was a _great _kiss." A cry of contempt echoed in the small chamber. He turned to Brienne, wearing that smug smile that _always _made her squirm. "And you kissed me back."

"I did _not._"

"Oh, you _did. _For a moment, Brienne Tarth, you kissed me back. With your horrible boyfriend watching, and my hand on your hip, you _melted _against my mouth." He continued to smirk. "I could always ask Bronn for the security footage."

The air conditioning kept the building and lift cool, but that did not stop a fine pink flush crawling over Brienne's neck and face. Her blue eyes settled on the lit '28' button in front; one arm wrapped around her torso. Her lips pressed to the rim of her cup. "What does it even _matter _if I kissed you back?"

_What did it matter? _They'd been antagonistic co-workers for three years; taunting and teasing each other over cases and in the gym both of them _stubbornly _refused to leave. Jaime was starting to suspect that both of them had been prodding at the other with verbal insults and _literal _swords as a way of dealing with the unexpectedness of having a crush on someone you never thought possible, but who was _apparently_ perfect for you. Hyle certainly seemed to think Brienne had a little crush on him. _Here's hoping that arsehole wasn't wrong about everything. _

"Well," Jaime started, taking a step closer to Brienne. "If you kissed me back, you may be more open to kissing me again."

Brienne scoffed. "And you'd want that?"

"_Yes_."

His tone was firm, full of want. He'd spent half the night thinking of her legs in that blue dress; the feel of her skin underneath his fingertips when he'd zipped it up. Somewhere around 3am he'd begun to imagine sliding that zip _down, _her dress _off, _and what it would be like to place his lips other places than her mouth. Tyrion was right: she had got under his skin. To the point that he was willing to push the _emergency stop _button in this lift and press Brienne against the cool, steel walls. Pin her hands above her head, encourage her legs to wrap around his hips. Bury his mouth at the juncture where shoulder met throat and lick the column of her neck.

But he didn't. And Brienne didn't. She continued to look at the button for floor '28' and allow her coffee cup to touch her lips rather than his own. "We need to go over those depositions today."

"Of course," he said, disappointment flooding through him. _Is that all you have to say? _

The lift _dinged, _and the doors stretched open. Their office was mostly empty: there was Podrick at the photocopier; the Blackfish (a famous environmental lawyer, and Jaime's personal hero) snoring on the conference room table. Together they walked towards their offices that stood side-by-side. Even their doors were next to each other. Jaime opened his first, Brienne followed, before she pulled back into the hall.

"I _did _kiss you back." Jaime beamed. "And I'd like to do it again. But not here; not whilst we're working. After we've gone through those depositions, we could get a drink?"

He nodded. "Only if you wear that dress." 

Brienne blushed, and teased her bottom lip as she thought over her own condition. "Only if you wear your glasses."

Jaime hadn't thought his glasses part of his appeal, but apparently Brienne Tarth liked a sexy professor vibe. Suddenly he was having difficulty looking over all those depositions. "_Deal_."

They shook on their accord; neither wanting to let go of the others hand _just _yet. Brienne held his gaze, chest huffing in and out as she struggled to soften her breathing. If she kept staring at him like that, Jaime would have to place his briefcase strategically over his crotch. _They weren't going to make it to drinks. _Thankfully, both of them were incredible lawyers, and could _easily _get out of the verbal contract they had just shaken upon.

Gods, he really hoped Podrick knew to knock. 


End file.
